


Don’t You Still Love the Feeling?

by emohades



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Car Accidents, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26400160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emohades/pseuds/emohades
Summary: Going back to a sport that’s caused you so much trauma is not easy. It’s not like falling off your bicycle and brushing off the dirt and getting back on. It’s the feeling that you’ve disappointed all of your fans, the people that have looked up to you for the short time you’ve been in the sport. That they’ll leave. That they’ll turn their backs on you. There’s forty-two other racers that they could go to. And they’ll probably do that. That’s what he thinks. Add that to being an omega in an alpha dominated sport. Society has evolved enough to have general equality. But of course, the alphas are always full of themselves. It’s a good thing everyone thinks that Mr. McQueen is also an alpha, thanks to the wonderful thing known as scent blockers.
Relationships: Sally Carrera/Lightning McQueen
Kudos: 12





	Don’t You Still Love the Feeling?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y’all. I’m back with an actual book lol. I’m trying really hard on this one and trying to update consistently ( ´∀｀) I hope you like it

Going back to a sport that’s caused you so much trauma is not easy. It’s not like falling off your bicycle and brushing off the dirt and getting back on. It’s the feeling that you’ve disappointed all of your fans, the people that have looked up to you for the short time you’ve been in the sport. That they’ll leave. That they’ll turn their backs on you. There’s forty-two other racers that they could go to. And they’ll probably do that. That’s what he thinks. Add that to being an omega in an alpha dominated sport. Society has evolved enough to have general equality. But of course, the alphas are always full of themselves. It’s a good thing everyone thinks that Mr. McQueen is also an alpha, thanks to the wonderful thing known as scent blockers.  
____________

It was the final 100 laps of the last race of the Piston Cup season. The 43 drivers all pushing and giving it their all. But only three of them even had a chance. Strip ‘The King’ Weathers, the Dinoco racer, with his shining sky blue paint and tall tail fin on his wonderful car, for starters. He had won his sponsors many piston cups in the past, and he still had it in him to get another. But of course. They’re’s another furious alpha racer with a thick skull always trying to get past him. Chick Hicks. He’d been chasing the king for years, always determined to get out off the number two spot but always failing miserably. His car’s green paint and multitude of stickers gave him that obsessed teen look, even though he was quite an old guy, compared to the rookies. On the topic of rookies, there is the rookie that surprised them all the most. Lightning McQueen, the blonde charmer that everyone loved. Except the other racers. But the rookie had quickly gained massive popularity.  
Lightning was close behind Weathers, being tailed by Chick. These moments exhilarated him, even more so with the shining piston cup calling his name. He had to admit to himself though, all of the hormone crazy, determined alphas emitting powerful scents sometimes threw him off. Don’t get him wrong, he would give anything to be at least a beta. The risk of having people knowing what he was, is a dangerous game. He could have his number taken, be replaced by someone new on the whim of the almighty alpha in charge. But that was a minor problem as long as nothing happened. He was overstocked on scent blockers, heat suppressants and anything else that would help him. He realized he had spaced out. Good thing he knew the track like the back of his hand. He refocused himself, sweat beading on his forehead under his racing helmet. Actually, all of him had sweat. It was getting hot in his car, and without an AC, he just had to bear it. There was 50 laps left. Everyone else went into the pits, and he stayed out. He was confident that he would be just fine. And for a while he was, before Chick and The King caught up to him. He didn’t know how, but he was disturbed. They were passing him. How were they passing him? He was so sure he would win this. He slammed the gas pedal seemingly farther than all the way, but he got nowhere. They were ahead of him by 30 feet and climbing. He gritted his teeth, arms tensing. Was it his tires? His gas? Why was he moving so much slower? His arms shook beyond his control, shaking the tires. He tried to steady himself, focus on the race but before he knew it, he was slamming into the wall, flying upwards. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. His instincts went haywire, he was emoting stress and fear hormones past his blockers. The car slammed into the asphalt, top down, and he was knocked out cold. The car bounced and rolled for another few hundred feet, before harshly coming to a stop in a normal idle position. It was ironic. Ambulance sirens sounded. The race was stopped. Even though Chick has already crossed the finish line, doing donuts on the track. He didn’t even care that Lightning had wrecked. The doors of the car were yanked open, medical personnel carefully yet hastily removing Lightning’s limp but alive body from the smoking car, lying him on a stretcher and wheeling him into the back. The fans in the stadium were yelling, screaming his name in distress. They didn’t know anything on his condition. He was being transported to the hospital in priority. They couldn’t be too late. If they were, what would they do?


End file.
